


Seven Shades of Weird

by Marrrrrrr



Category: Community
Genre: Bondage, D/s, F/M, In my opinion this story contains consensual sex, S3, Spanking, but some disagree so proceed at your own pace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrrrrrr/pseuds/Marrrrrrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil Abed decides seducing Britta is the best way to get out of the Dreamatorium.  Sex happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story behind this story is slightly complicated.
> 
> Months ago, there was a kink meme over at the Community TV livejournal. I wrote the first chapter of this work there in response to a prompt posted there. I thought about continuing it, but never did.
> 
> Later, I decided reuse the first chapter because I'm lazy and turn it into a Troy/Britta/Abed fic because a friend had requested a M/F/M combo with Troy and Abed. That became The Psychology of Polyamorous Relationships, which is still on this site.
> 
> I've still always kind of wanted to continue the story along the original, really kind of weird place the first chapter ends with Abed carrying a post-coital Britta out of the Dreamatorium, with the idea that he'd found something better to saw then Jeff's arm (I am sorry for this sentence). And after talking to kbsaysthings and explodinganway on tumblr about the idea, I decided to give it a whirl and I wrote this.
> 
> As of writing this intro, there are currently two chapters and the third was half written. I kind of wanted to combine the second and third chapters (and I might end up doing that) but I'm really tired of sitting on this and want some feedback so here it is.
> 
> I stole the title from an interview with Gillian Jacobs and Alison Brie where they talked about shipping and fanfiction because why not, it's perfect.
> 
> Also I took this down after a complaint was made about the sex in this story being rape and the AO3 abuse team asked me to add the tag "Author Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings" or "Non-Con", just because they thought it was potentially triggering. My first response was to just take it down cause I don't want a rape-fic posted under my name, but I really don't think this was so I've decided to put it back up with the more ambiguous tag AO3 requested.

"You say your name is Evil Abed- which does not throw me because I'm a therapist- so let's talk about evil," Britta says, clutching her pen between her thumb and forefinger.

The look he gives her makes her shudder. She tells herself its fear, and that's not entirely a lie. Abed does look fairly intimidating, in spite of the goofy looking felt goatee on his face. But there's a leering quality to his stare, something confident and knowing in the way his eyes rake her body in that moment that causes a little bit of heat to flood into her belly. And a little bit of wetness to pool in her panties.

What was wrong with her? Why was she having these kinds of thoughts about Abed? He was an innocent. And why now, when he was acting so strangely?

"Y-you know what," she says, shifting her thighs, "Maybe I should talk to good Abed instead."

Abed stands, abruptly, and Britta flinches. He chuckles, and the sound causes her cheeks to redden. He makes his way over to her at a slow, deliberate pace, and with each step he takes towards her her heart starts to beat a little bit faster. She feels her legs part, and she slumps down into her chair.

"Have you had sex, Britta, since Blade came into town?" Evil Abed asks.

"Um… no…" Britta says, too distracted by him, his closeness, the way he smells and the large, prominent bulge in his pants to fully concentrate on the question. She reaches out, instinctively, and rubs that bulge. It's thick, and warm. She wonders idly what it tastes like.

"You were so horny that night, I could tell…" Abed breathed, shutting his eyes and rolling his head back as she squeezes at his shaft. "Take it out." It's undoubtedly a command, but there's no edge to it. And no question that she'll obey.

She unzips his jeans, and his penis flops out into her hands. It's long and thick, and even warmer now that she's not feeling it through layers of denim and cotton. She runs her hand down his length, appreciating the way he hisses sharply at her touch.

"Take off your clothes," he says again, in the low, slow voice that makes her pussy ache with a feeling of emptiness. She complies, pulling her thin shirt up over her head, but he's not done talking. "You really enjoy having sex with Blade." It wasn't a question, but he waited for her to respond.

"Yes." She bent over in her chair, undoing the laces of her shoes.

"Because he treated you like you thought you deserved to be treated. Like a whore. Like an object." Abed was jacking off now, slowly and idly, keeping himself fully hard and impressive looking. Britta appreciates that.

"Yes." She said again as she lifts her tank top up and over her head.

"You like that. It gets you off."

"Yes." She looks up at him, biting her lip as she removes her bra. It's cold in the Dreamatorium, and her nipples harden instantly.

"Good." He says. She lifts her butt up off the chair, letting her wiggle her pants and panties off, not wanting to stand up before he tells her to. She's naked now, and she looks up at him, smiling. He reaches down and strokes her cheek. It's the first time he's touched her and she leans into his hand, trying to feel more of him. "Good girl."

She shudders again. Part of her knows this is totally inappropriate. That she shouldn't be this wet from the demeaning things Abed has been saying. That she shouldn't be in total, complete agreement with everyone of them, much less saying so out loud. But that part of her could fuck off. She was horny. And Troy was gone.

"Get on your knees." Her legs are weaker than she thought they'd be, and she stumbles a bit as she stands, almost falling over. But Abed catches her, grabbing her arm. His hand is so warm, and he starts rubbing his thumb up and against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He stares into her eyes and she feels all the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight.

"Blade didn't know how to appreciate you. He took you for granted. Just like Lame Abed did," Evil Abed said. She felt herself melt against him as he pulled her against his body. She could feel his manhood pressed in-between them. "You look like Elizebeth Shue…" His voice is different then; it sounded almost reverent. But Evil Abed kisses her before she can really process what that means, and she loses the ability to think straight as his tongue invades her mouth.

His fingers find the opening of her cunt and he pushes into her, mercilessly finger fucking her as he devours her mouth. She moans uncontrollably, which only seems to make him redouble his efforts. His thumb presses into her clit and she grabs at his shoulders to steady herself.

"I changed my mind," he says, breaking the kiss to whisper into her ear. "Blowjobs are Lame. Come here." He removes his fingers, and she whines, but Abed grabs her hand and leads her back over to his chair. He plants her in it, spreading her legs wide and stepping in front of her and lining his thick, throbbing erection against the slick opening of her cunt.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Britta?" he asks, staring at her with that leer again as he rubs the back of her neck. He's smiling, and he must already know the answer. But he seems to want to hear the words.

"Yes. Fuck me, Abed. Please." Her voice is thick and lustful, and she's saying the words through gritted teeth. "Please fuck me."

He smiles, caressing her face again. Then he slowly, delicately pierces her entrance. She cries out, grasping at him. It had been a long time for her, almost a year even. And he had her feeling so sensitive, so riled up. Abed seems to be able to tell, and he's gentle at first, with shallow, even strokes. Despite his claims that he was Evil, Abed had been gentle this entire time. Except in the exact, perfect ways she didn't want him to be.

Soon, though, she's urging him on, pulling him into her with greater and greater force. He seems more than happy to comply, and soon he's jackhammering into her and she's screaming, her face and chest red and slick with perspiration. He's whispering into her ear, calling her a whore and a cunt and a liar, telling her that she loves cum and that he's going to fuck her until she can't walk and all kind of other nasty, evil things that makes her juices flow all the more freely. She loses count of the number of times she comes, one orgasm building and cresting into another as Abed fucks her relentlessly. Soon, though, his rhythm begins to break down and he's just pumping into her as hard as he can. His dick spasms inside her, and she can feel a rush of something warm and wet come out of him, and he collapses onto her in the chair.

She clutches at him, tears streaming out of her face as she sobs. He runs a hand down her back as he pants, heavily. He's shriveling inside of her now, but makes no move to pull out. She doesn't complain.

"I've… been reconsidering the merits of this timeline," he finally says after catching his breath. "Maybe it's not as dark as I thought."

She's still too far gone to understand what that's supposed to mean. She's still trembling, still feeling the aftereffects of what Abed's just done to her. She doesn't object as he scoops her up into his arms and carries her out of the Dreamatorium.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a bit more to this chapter, it's about 2/3rds of it instead of half. I cut it off a little earlier before cause Abed leaving the Dreamatorium is a better cliffhanger, but if I'm reposting it I might as well add a little material.

Abed kissed the inside of her left elbow, giving a teasing little lick that made her whine at him. He knew where she’d much rather he stick his tongue, right now, and he chuckled as he pictured the pout he couldn’t see with her facing away from him like this. 

“Abed…” Britta moaned. “Please…”

His right hand rubbed slowly across her tight little tummy, rubbing at the strong abdominals he felt clenching there, feeling the tension in them that strained to be released. He grinned. She was shaking, trembling as she lay draped over him, gasping deeply for breath. Her skin was flushed, and laced with her sweat, both dry and fresh. He licked her cheek, collecting some. The aroma and taste of it was driving him wild and his dick strained almost painfully against his jeans. Britta’s jerking little half-twitches, and the way they caused her ass to squeeze and grip at him through the denim, didn’t help. And while he’d enjoyed both the physical sensation and the knowledge of how desperate she was to feel his cock, he’d let it go on too long.

He grabbed her across the midsection, pulling her close. “Bad girl,” he whispered, chidingly. “No rushing things. Stay still.” She stopped struggling, unmoving except for the halting rise and fall of her chest.

Abed ran his other hand down from the knots that held her secure to the bottom bunk, caressing the length of her arm. He could feel her shaking, could feel her muscles twitch as she struggled to obey him. He felt her entire body spasm as his fingers tickled at her armpit.

“Please,” she said, mewling pitifully. “Please fuck me…”

He swept a widely arcing finger across her flesh, feeling the little stubble of hair there under the slick damp skin. “Not yet, Britta. You have to be patient, you know that.” He brought the finger to his nose and sniffed, letting his eyes flutter shut as he inhaled her scent. “We’re not done with your treatment yet.” Not satisfied, he stuck his whole nose in the crook where her shoulder met her body, breathing in the salty-sweet smell he found buried there. It took every effort of willpower he had not to listen to her, not to tear his jeans open and fuck her hard and fast and unrelenting like she desperately wanted him too and not stop until they were both quivering messes and he’d come inside her. But no. He’d done that already, back in the Dreamatorium. Now he owed it to her to take his time. Today was special. They’d have all the time in the world for quick, hard fucks in the future.

They had this whole timeline to explore after all.

“Let’s step back a little,” Abed said, releasing her so he could lightly caress one of her breasts. “We were just talking about Blade, and how part of the reason you kept letting him lay with you was because he reminded you subconsciously of your father.” She moaned as he tweaked a nipple. “Then you had another momentary attack of wanton slutiness and I felt so bad for you I just had to rub your aching little pussy so you’d stop making so much noise.” 

He didn’t mention how he’d stopped, right before she’d been about to go over the edge. Or that he’d done the same thing, repeatedly, for the last hour or so after he’d carried her in from the Dreamatorium and tied her to his bed. Sometimes with his tongue. Sometimes with his fingers. Sometimes both. Always aiming to heighten Britta’s arousal while denying her climax, to cause the spring that was her throbbing, naked clit to coil tighter and tighter without releasing.

Then he’d take a little time to stroke and smell and taste his lovely new pet, exploring every inch of her with every sense he could. Softly and gently, keeping her arousal piqued. He owed her, after all, for freeing him from the Dreamatorium. For taking him from being just some time little sliver, some shard of potentiality either of the Universe in its variant intersecting possibilities or maybe just of some Lame sci-fi addict’s broken mind, to being real and flesh and blood here in the Prime Timeline. Where he could feel something more than dull pain again. Where food didn’t taste like ash. Where it seemed like better futures were still possible. Where the things that once seemed so enticing and interesting aren’t revealed to be just out of style-hats, too-big bath robes, and useless bits of cardboard without him around to make them work like they should.

But she also deserved to be punished. She’d thought he was some little monkey with a little monkey brain that she could look inside and fiddle around with. Even after even Lame Abed had warned her, a Christmas ago with that little song, just how fragile she was. But she hadn’t learned that people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. So at the same time he played with her body, he peppered her mind with questions, turning the tables on her and putting her psyche under the magnifying glass instead. He’d learned a lot, mostly things he’d already known, but details were good. He’d already felt how ferociously wet and roasting a little non-specific dirty talk and humiliation had gotten her in the Dreamatorium.

Details were hot. Hot hot hot.

“We’ve already established your father was strict, correct?” Abed continued as he pinched the nipple in his fingers. She nodded, her hair tickling his naked chest as it bounced up and down. “And that you acted out a lot. Tell me what you’d do; that you knew would make your father mad.”

“Sleep with boys.” Britta’s voice was a little hoarse, and Abed heard her smack and lick her lips. “Stay out all night and sneak in the next morning. Smoke. Drink. Get high. Ditch school.”

“Did he ever find out?” He was kneading her tits now, pressing them together as his thumbs massaged her areola and flicked her nipples. “Did you ever get him really angry?”

“M-mostly I was pretty sneaky.” She was starting to breathe heavily again. “But one time I left a pack of cigarettes in my back pocket on accident and my mom found them when she was doing the laundry. And… and… oh yes Abed,” she moaned as one of his hands returned to her quim and began to rub at her full, puffy lips again. He frowned, pinching her, and she yelped before continuing her story. “And he made me smoke all of them right in front of him in the back yard. I was retching and puking by the end, but he made me keep going. And… and he yelled at me. Called me names.”

“What’d he call you?” Abed asked, rubbing faster, wider, and harder. They’d been a recurring motif so far, the names her father had called her. They’d stuck with her, staining her memories even after she’d thought she’d shut him out of her life. Abed was breathing deeply now too, and he was starting to piston his hips up into her, fucking her through his pants. “What’d he tell you you were?”

“Nasty. Dirty. Bad.” Britta’s voice took on a note of a squeal, and he could feel her cunt pulling at him. She was so hot, now, so worked up, almost coming so quickly from so little. He’d barely even touched her clit. She was ready, he decided.

He lifted her abruptly, and slid out from under her.

“Abed!” she cried, instantly. “Wha-where are you going?” She started bucking, straining against the grappling hook line he’d bound her to the bed with. “Don’t leave me! Please!”

“Shhhhh,” he said, softly, kneeling down next to her, bringing his face close to hers. She was pouting, still struggling. He cupped her cheek, smiling to reassure her. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back. I just need to get something.” He kissed her and she moaned into his mouth, attacking his tongue with hers as if she could ensnare him by it and prevent him from pulling away. But she couldn’t. “If I untie a hand so you can touch yourself while I’m gone, will you go slowly?”

She nodded, desperate.

“You’re not going to cum all over your slutty little fingers?”

She shook her head, her eyes big.

“Alright. You’ve been such a good girl today, Britta.” She beamed at him. “And I think we made a lot of progress this afternoon, don’t you?” Nod. He reached up and undid the knot around her left wrist, rubbing the skin where the rope had dug into it. “You deserve to be rewarded. I’m going to trust you.”

“Thank you, Abed,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as her hand instantly finding the furnace between her legs. He watched her for a moment, his eyes following her fingers as she played carefully and delicately with herself, writhing on his bed. Then he turned and exited the blanket fort.

#

Abed found what he was looking for in the Dreamatorium, propped up against her abandoned chair. He knelt down and opened it, sifting through Britta’s purse.

The camera, big and bulky, was the first thing he saw. He pulled it out, inspecting it, turning it around in his hands. He’d seen her use this a lot, snapping pictures of handprints on windows or a bag twisting in the wind or some other cliche, esoteric subject she’d found. His fingers settled on the latch to the panel on the back. Film. Old-fashioned. Very Britta. To stick with something chaotic and uncertain and needlessly clunky like that. To risk whatever some accident in the development process to mar your vision, to wait a day to see the result of your struggle, all when you could just plug and download and have everything you wanted: perfect, ordered, and digital. She was a romantic. She loved living on contingency, loved never being tied down to the decisions she’d made.

He felt his dick stiffen and he grinned. Well. She clearly loved being tied down sometimes, at least in the literal sense.

He resumed his search. He spotted a small, thin pill bottle near the bottom of the bag, sandwiched under a makeup case, and he extracted it. There was no rattle of pills inside as he shook it between his fingers, but he did saw something long and cylindrical jostling around through the opaque orange plastic.

His grin deepened. He’d figured Britta would have cannabis on her, given her growing drug habit. And THC would work even better for this than nicotine would.

Abed twisted the top off the bottle, and immediately understood why the blonde had taken the precaution of using a airtight container for storage. The thick, skunky smell of the marijuana wafted out into the room. He felt the joint, twisting it between his fingers. It was tightly packed, it’s folds even and regular. The hands that made this had done so with practiced skill, had been repeating motions they’d made ten thousand times. He brought the joint to his nostrils, inhaling it. He could feel the work she’d put into this, this bit of paper wrapped around plant matter, could almost feel the desperate hope she must have felt when making it that the adherence to this ritual would allow for some kind of escape that lasted longer than the high.

He looked around the Dreamatorium. This had been Lame Abed’s version of the same thing, when it really came down to it. And even more sad, really. Pot and the high it brought was real, at least. This… this was all just a waste of floor space. He appreciated the need for fantasy, but pure imagination had its limits. Tangibility had its own rewards, as the grappling hook rope he’d repurposed had proven. There was space for plenty of more things both soft and hard. And he’d need a bigger bed, since he’d be sharing it with at least one person soon.

The idea of holding Britta as they both drifted off to sleep made the urge to bury himself in her cunt blazed red hot in his chest, and his cock strained against his pants with a new urgency. He kicked them off and added them to the smattering of clothes, mostly Britta’s that already littered the floor. His cock, unconstrained at last, twitched pleasurably and he twisted his hips to accentuate the feeling. Then he palmed the joint along with a yellow bic lighter he found in her purse, grabbed the camera, and made his way back into the blanket fort.

#  
Britta’s eyes were shut when Abed re-entered the blanket fort. The blonde’s feet were planted firmly on the mattress, her hips swaying rhythmically as her sole free hand ground into her herself. She obviously hadn’t heard him come back in. Abed allowed himself a moment to study her again, his eyes following the circular, back and forth motion of her pelvis, memorizing it. He’d anticipated her failing to obey his command for her to not cum, but by the slow smoothness of her pace he could tell she’d at the very least made a real attempt to pace herself.

She trusted him to make it worth the wait. He intended to prove he was worthy of that trust. Britta moaned, sounding so desperate and forlorn that he almost abandoned the entire reason for his brief departure and plowed into her right then. But he didn’t.  
Instead in a cold, hard voice he said, “Britta.” She opened her eyes, looking at his face. Then her eyes flitted down. He watched them follow the bounce of his cock as he walked over to the bed. "You've been bad."  
Her brow turned downward, and she looked back up at his face. Then to the joint gripped in his long fingers. A little of the color drained from her face. "Oh, Abed, I can ex-"

"Evil Abed," he corrected, reaching out to stroke her face. The impulse was not exactly Evil, it occured to him, but her mouth turned up as his thumb stroked across her lips. He put a hand on her breast, felt how fast how heart was beating. It thudded, straining against his palm, mirroring his own. "And you don't have to explain. I know. You're bad too, Britta. You fit in best back in my timeline, really. You adapted the quickest and the easiest. I mean, you had to mar your beautiful hair with that ridiculous hair streak but..." He refocused. "You're bad. And that's not okay if we're going to try and fit in with this timeline. So I'm going to have to punish you. Do you think that's fair?"  
Britta, who was working her one free hand through his hair, nodded eagerly. He smiled.

"Good." He loosened her other restraint as she watched him, chewing on her lip. He sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap. "Come here, Britta," he said gently, carressing her bottom as she crawled over to him. She bent over his lap, pressing it up into his hand. He rubbed at her for a moment, reveling in the softness of her skin against his fingertips, the heat of her sex radiating out from where her pelvis rubbed across his thighs, the way her hips kept twitching, flinching in anticipation. He let her suffer for a bit; partly to heighten her arousal, partly because he hadn't gotten a chance to explore this part of her body from their previous positioning.

"You have a very nice ass, Britta," he said, punctuating the compliment with a sharp, quick spank. She whimpered, and his cock thickened and pressed into her side. He wanted to hear the noise again, so he spanked her again, with slightly less force and a little more follow-through.

"Thank you, Evil Abed," she said in a small voice, pressing her face into his blanket. It really was a nice ass, he thought, kneading it with his hand, pinching her flesh together. It was round and full, but well shaped at the same time. He enjoyed pulling her cheeks apart, stretching them, then watching them bounce back against each other once he released them. The fact that he was pulling her pussy open at the same time only added icing to the cake. "I'm sorry I'm a bad girl."

"Are you?" he asked, spanking her again, her flesh rippling under the blow. "I don't think you are. I think you love it. I think you love being a filthy, weed smoking little slut, don't you Britta?"

"Yes!" she cried. He started tapping the lips of her cunt with two of his fingers, slapping it harder and harder until the room was filled with the wet fip fip fip of his digits squelching into her melting little quim, broken by the slap of hand on flesh when he spanked her or her sobbing little mewls whenever he made contact with her granite hard clit.

"You love it when your pussy gets fondled like this, don't you? Tell me."

"Yes!" She drew the blanket around her reddening face, muffling her voice.

"You love being dirty. You love the darkness inside of you. You revel in it. You let it eat you up inside until it's all there is and it gushes out of each of your pores like mud and attracts broken men like Winger to you like he was a shark and it was chum."

"Mmmmmmmnmmm," Britta moaned as Abed increased the pace of his stinging fingers.

"It's a good thing you let me into this timeline, Britta. You need me, don't you? Need me here to control you. To fuck you hard the way you need it. To stop you from doing the naughty, nasty things you so want to do. Like fuck Jeff. And Troy. And Annie; don't think I haven't seen the way you look at her when you think no one's looking." He gathered her hair in a fist, pulling sharply, forcing her heard up out of it's hiding place. She looked back at him, face beet red, eyes wavering. "You've probably even imagined Shirley naked, haven't you? Thought about what those smooth, brown curves look like out from under all those clothes? She's a mother, Britta. And you probably want to know what her cunt tastes like."

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" Britta squealed, pursing her lips tight together, shaking. Abed eased off her clit, then, denying her again. He presented his fingers to her.

"Suck," he said. She obeyed, engulfing them in her warm, wet mouth, licking them clean, running her tongue in between them to get every last drop of herself off him. "Good girl," he said, patting her reddening bottom gently. "Good girl. As I said, it's good you let me in, Britta. I'll take care of all of that now, don't worry. You just need a firm hand-" he cracked her across the rear again "-and a hard cock to keep you in line."

She smiled at him, pressing her cheek into his palm, cupping his hand with both of hers. "I like your cock, Evil Abed. Can you put it in me now? Please? I feel so empty it aches." She bit her lip again, rubbing her thighs together as she gazed back at him. "I'm sorry I was bad. Pretty please? I'll be good, I promise."

He chuckled at her, slowly rubbing her ass. The skin there was hot, warmed by the blood that had tinged it a bright pink, but that was nothing compared to the furnace he could feel gushing lower between her legs. "I will, Britta. I want to feel your cunt again, too. I want to flip you over and hold you down and just drive into you until it grips the length of my dick like a glove." Britta's breathing was growing heavier, her eyes more and more lidded. He pulled her up, turning her around in his lap so he was cradling her against his chest. "But we've got to take care of this, first." He reached over to the desk and grabbed the joint and the lighter from where he'd left them.

Britta's eyes widened slightly when she looked back to see what he was reaching for.

"Take care of it?" She looked suddenly eager, and she licked her lips. "You mean-?"

"That's right, Britta. This is my home. You've brought drugs into it. They're still here. This seems like the quickest and easiest solution, yes?" he asked as he stroked her hair. "It's the least you could do for me, isn't it?"

Britta shook in his arms, staring at the joint. "Y-yeah..." she stuttered as she absent-mindedly rubbed his neck. "Of course." Her tongue darted out over her lips again. "Can I...?" He held it in front of her face, letting her lips close around the butt.


End file.
